the fog emerges from the wood
like ****** spirits from their graves
reaching to join their brethren
aloft in the sky
blocking the sun
that beckons it ascend

the horizon is aglow
in the dappled sunlight
hazy with moisture
and heavy with the dead

her legs shake
but she pulls herself to her feet

her hands bleed
but she clenches her fists

her eyes water
but she raises them to meet mine

she stands before me
a picture of defiance

shaking legs
bleeding hands
watering eyes

she is weak
but she is strong enough

the moon glows softly in the sky
as timelessly beautiful
as a string of pearls
around a woman's neck

while it's brighter counterpart
with blistering heat
and glaring light
begs to be loved
like the diamonds
of an expensive necklace

never compare me to the sun
i don't need to be the centre
of your universe
and besides
i always found the moon to be
far more intriguing